


I'm so heavy in your arms

by phanjessmagoria



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Calum and Luke are in this very briefly, Deepthroating, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Restraints, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6318484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanjessmagoria/pseuds/phanjessmagoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two of them didn't have a particular arrangement, and there weren't any real rules, only unspoken ones: Ashton always asked Michael if he was ok with whatever he was doing, only doing it if Michael said yes; Michael could stop Ashton whenever he wanted by just telling him to lay off; Ashton never did anything without asking first. It worked incredibly well, and that was all the two of them cared about.</p><p>“No hands,” Ashton mumbled against Michael's mouth, already knowing Michael was about to lift his hands from his legs and touch Ashton. Michael whined softly but nodded, kissing Ashton again and leaving his hands where they were, fingertips pressing against his thighs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm so heavy in your arms

The SUV was quiet. The engine was humming, just loud enough to drown out the radio from up front, kept low on purpose. The boys in the back weren't their usual raucous selves—they'd been going non-stop for what felt like an entire 72 hours, and it was showing. Luke, who'd been feeling somewhat under the weather anyway, had passed out as soon as he laid down on the bench seat in the middle row. Even curled up on it, his six-foot frame nearly didn't fit, and even worse, it left Michael, Calum, and Ashton to squeeze in together in the back.

Michael was in the middle, which he _hated_ if only because whoever ended up as his seatmates tended to fuck with him. Right now it wasn't terrible—they were all so exhausted that once they'd settled in, Calum had turned away to face out the window. Michael and Ashton had watched as he pulled his hat down over his eyes, leaned back against Michael, said “Wake me up when we get there” and, presumably, fell asleep.

They'd been told that the hotel wasn't too far of a drive, but whether that was a lie or just misinformation given to their team was unclear, because they'd been in the car for a while now, and still no hotel. Michael shifted a little toward Ashton, turning so Calum's back was leaning against his shoulder a bit more securely. He gave Ashton a small smile, which Ashton returned, though as they passed beneath a streetlight, it looked slightly more like a smirk.

“Comfortable?” Ashton asked, nodding toward Calum, who had shifted a little and tucked his feet up onto the seat as well, resulting in Michael being pushed even closer against Ashton.

“Not really,” Michael said, looking back behind him; Calum was breathing slow and even, and Michael didn't have the energy to move him so he could have more room on the seat.

“Mm,” Ashton hummed in response, and Michael thought that would be the end of the exchange until he felt Ashton's hand move over his thigh. “How about now?”

Michael bit his lip; he was fairly sure that Luke was dead to the world in front of them, but it was a little risky for Ashton to try anything with Calum basically pressed right up against him. Michael didn't protest soon enough (or at all, really), so Ashton took this as his cue to continue what he was doing. He slid his hand up Michael's leg, the fabric of his jeans worn enough to feel soft and smooth. Michael shifted his hips forward a little, unsure of what Ashton's exact plans were and how much room he'd need; the one upside of Calum being tucked completely onto the seat beside him in a ball was that Michael had enough room to spread his legs without suspicion.

Which was exactly what he did when Ashton shamelessly squeezed the inside of his thigh. Michael hadn't even realized that Ashton's hand had gotten that high up on his leg, but he felt absolutely certain that Ashton wasn't going to tease him and just stop there, giving him blue balls and a shitty attitude for the rest of the night. Except, when Ashton didn't move his hand and just massaged Michael's leg through the denim, he started to get a little worried that maybe he was wrong. He opened his mouth to ask Ashton just what he thought he was doing, but he didn't even get a chance to speak—as soon as his lips parted, Ashton moved his hand to cup Michael's cock through his pants. Michael gasped unintentionally and looked over at Ashton, whose expression clearly stated that he was just fucking with Michael and had done that on purpose. Michael, again, opened his mouth, this time to call Ashton a dick, but when he did, Ashton curled his hand around the outline of Michael's slowly hardening cock and squeezed it softly, drawing forth a muted moan from Michael, who quickly snapped his mouth shut to stifle it. The friction from the denim, over just his underwear, against his skin, felt pretty damn good—so Michael rolled his hips just a little into Ashton's hand.

Ashton turned himself so he was facing Michael more, leaning his front against Michael's arm. He kept his hand working over his length, feeling him getting harder with each moment that passed. Michael turned his face to Ashton's, trying for a kiss, but Ashton leaned back away from him. “Not yet,” Ashton whispered. “I'll tell you when.”

It was an innocuous statement, really, but Michael had hopes for where it might go. He just nodded, making sure Ashton was looking and could see him do so, see him listening to what Ashton told him. Ashton just smiled when Michael obeyed him, rewarding him by rubbing his palm flat over Michael's stiff cock.

Michael closed his eyes and hummed low in his throat as Ashton, whether consciously or not, focused on rubbing the heel of his hand over the head of his dick; Michael lifted his hips, grinding them forward against his hand, but Ashton pulled away when he did. Michael opened his eyes to glare at Ashton.

“Why'd you stop?” Michael demanded, whispering, though it was loud enough that Calum stirred a little behind him. Neither of them moved until Calum just shifted his weight and rested his head against the back of the seat, sighing softly in his sleep.

“Because we're doing what _I_ want, Michael,” Ashton whispered, and his voice was much quieter and calmer; only Michael could hear him. “Stay still.”

Michael bit his lip and nodded under Ashton's gaze. There was another moment of no contact between them, other than where Michael's shoulder was digging into Ashton's chest, before Michael finally felt Ashton's hand around his cock again. Michael was was pretty sure he was fully erect—his pants were tight enough around him to make him believe that he was, anyway—but Ashton made no move to unzip his jeans to give him any kind of relief or release. It was hard to keep his hips still—but he knew Ashton wanted him to listen, so he forced himself to just keep his legs spread as wide as he could while Ashton touched him.

The car pulled up to a red light, and they heard Dave's voice from the front seat: “Pulling in to the hotel now.” Luke and Calum didn't move, but Ashton did—he pulled his hand away from Michael but leaned in to him, his nose brushing Michael's cheek as he spoke, voice just as low as before. “After we check in, come to my room.”

Michael just nodded vehemently in response; his dick was so hard it was painful to be confined in his jeans, but he only had to deal with it for just a little bit longer. The light changed to green and Dave made the left into the lot of the hotel. There was a group of fans outside the front entrance; Ashton could see them pointing at the SUV as it drove in. 

–

The band was always thankful for hotels that allowed them to use employee or maintenance entrances when they were tired or sick, and it just so happened that both of those applied. Luke looked like the short nap he had gotten in the car hadn't helped him feel better at all, and Calum was yawning every few minutes. Ashton was the most together of all of them, but that was only because Michael was squirming and tugging his t-shirt down over his crotch any time anyone looked at him. He didn't feel tired either—he just felt uncomfortably aroused, and he wished that they could be given their room keys so they could go upstairs and then Ashton could get him the fuck off, finally.

It was only another couple of minutes, but it felt like hours by the time each of them had a room key in their hands. They headed to the elevator, Calum and Luke shuffling behind Ashton and Michael like zombies, and all stepped inside. Luke leaned immediately against the wall of the elevator car, leaning his head back against the mirrored surface and closed his eyes, like he wanted to catch a few more seconds of sleep before they arrived at their floor, and Calum adjusted his hat again, blocking out as much light as he could without just covering his face outright. Ashton stood in the corner beside Luke, his eyes still on Michael, who had slung his bag over his shoulder and was standing facing away from the rest of his band, hiding what he was sure was an extremely visible erection.

“You all right, Mikey?” Ashton asked. Luke didn't bother looking, but Calum glanced over at where Michael was trying to phase out of existence.

“Something wrong?” Calum asked, before Michael could answer.

“No, I'm fine,” Michael answered, words a little rushed. Ashton smirked, but Calum just blinked at Michael, like he was unsure if he believed him, and if he didn't, unsure if he wanted to pursue it.

He was spared having to say anything by the dinging of the elevator when it reached their floor. Calum pushed past Luke and Michael to get out first; he was followed by Michael and then Luke, who had been manhandled and steered out of the doors by Ashton.

Once Luke and Calum were safely shut in their rooms, Ashton turned to Michael. “Come on,” he said, and Michael didn't miss how one side of his mouth was turned up into a mischievous half-smile. Michael stepped over to him as Ashton unlocked the door to his room and opened it, letting Michael walk in first. He unceremoniously dropped his bag to the ground and turned, waiting for Ashton to pull his suitcase into the room and let the door close.

“Come on, yourself,” Michael said, already shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on top of his bag.

“Don't be impatient,” Ashton said, barely sparing Michael a glance, and instead flicked the nearest light switch. Two lamps blazed to life on either side of the windows.

“How am I supposed to _not_ be impatient?” Michael asked. “You practically jerked me off in the car.”

Ashton ignored this, instead moving his suitcase a bit further into the room, letting it rest against the wall; it leaned a bit to the side because it was missing a wheel. Michael stood, watching him, arms crossed over his chest. When Ashton didn't look at him and instead walked past him and sat on the bed to take his shoes off, Michael moved his hands to his hips and cleared his throat.

“Yes?” Ashton asked, not looking up at him but instead continuing to unlace his boots. 

“Why'd you even bring me in here if you're going to ignore me?” Michael asked in response, voice a touch bitter.

“Because it's fun to watch you get pissed off,” Ashton replied, picking his shoes up and standing, moving to place them beside his suitcase.

“More fun than—” Michael began, but Ashton cut him off with a snicker.

“No. Get undressed.” Ashton looked at Michael expectantly for a moment after he spoke, before pulling his shirt off himself. Michael followed suit, though while Ashton stopped with his shirt, Michael stripped down to his underwear. He looked over to check if Ashton was watching, and frowned when he saw he wasn't; he was digging through his suitcase.

Michael opened his mouth to complain again, but it was almost like Ashton could anticipate that he was about to speak without even looking. Ashton held up his hand, his back still to Michael as he squatted beside his case, pointer finger raised to indicate that he just needed one more minute. Michael sat down on the edge of the bed, hoping whatever Ashton was searching for in there would be worth the trouble. He shuffled his feet back and forth on the carpet, heels catching the fibers and making a scratching noise that he knew Ashton could hear and would probably interpret as Michael being mad at having to wait.

Ashton stood after another moment, and when he turned around, Michael grinned a little despite himself—he couldn't help it. Ashton was holding a red bandana. It was crumpled into a ball right then, sure, but Michael knew what it was really for. He perked up, back straightening; he palmed himself a little through his underwear. His dick had softened in the course of waiting to check in and then waiting for Ash to get his ass in gear, and he wanted to get himself going again.

“Don't do that,” Ashton said, looking pointedly at Michael's hand as he took hold of two neighboring corners of the bandana and snapped it in midair to remove some of the wrinkles. Michael stopped moving his hand, resting it on his thigh instead, as Ashton stepped closer and began folding the fabric into a rectangle. He stopped in front of Michael, moving in between his knees, and lifted the bandana up. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Michael said, nodding, and closed his eyes. This was something they did sometimes—Michael liked Ashton to be in charge, to tell him what to do, and Ashton just wanted to indulge Michael, to satisfy him however he could. Cal and Luke, as far as either of them knew, had no idea that Michael let Ashton take control of him like this, and he wanted to keep it that way. It was something Michael hadn't even realized he wanted outright, until he and Ashton had accidentally started talking about it and agreed to try it the next time they fucked around. Now, Michael wanted it more often than not.

Ashton lifted the bandana and rested it gently across Michael's eyes, wrapping it around his head and tying it off, making sure not to catch any of Michael's hair in the knot and pull it accidentally.

“Ok?” Ashton asked, and Michael nodded and again answered to the affirmative. Ashton smiled a little, letting himself grin because Michael couldn't see him, and then leaned down to kiss Michael on the lips. The reaction was instantaneous: Michael kissed him back—he'd been waiting to kiss Ashton since they were in the car, and he was glad Ashton finally allowed it to happen.

The two of them didn't have a particular arrangement, and there weren't any real rules, only unspoken ones: Ashton always asked Michael if he was ok with whatever he was doing, only doing it if Michael said yes; Michael could stop Ashton whenever he wanted by just telling him to lay off; Ashton never did anything without asking first. It worked incredibly well, and that was all the two of them cared about.

“No hands,” Ashton mumbled against Michael's mouth, already knowing Michael was about to lift his hands from his legs and touch Ashton. Michael whined softly but nodded, kissing Ashton again and leaving his hands where they were, fingertips pressing against his thighs.

Ashton, though, was allowed to do whatever he wanted with his hands—and he did. He moved one to Michael's side and the other to his crotch, cupping his dick through his underwear and rubbing it with his whole palm. Michael's hands curled into fists as Ashton teased his cock to hardness again, his lips barely touching Michael's anymore. 

That was one thing that Michael _hated_ about doing this with Ashton—when Ashton seemed to think that just because Michael couldn't see him meant he didn't still want Ashton's attention everywhere, not just between his legs. Michael's eyes were closed, but he would be glaring at Ashton through the blindfold if he could—he was certainly scowling at him hard enough.

Ashton noticed; Michael heard him giggle and it just pissed him off even more. He would get Ashton's attention no matter what, any way he could—he moved his hands from his thighs and reached out to touch Ashton—he couldn't tell for sure, but he certainly thought his hands landed on Ashton's shoulders. Michael slipped his hands down over Ashton's back, hooking his hands under his arms and pulling him as he leaned back, forcing Ashton on top of him.

Or, well...he tried, anyway. He ended up on his back, but Ashton resisted moving with him; Michael had opened his legs a little, trying to accommodate Ashton's body between them, and he could feel Ash's hands on the bed where he'd braced himself, keeping himself still and in the same position. Michael felt Ashton push himself up off the bed, straightening up, back rigid. He frowned down at Michael, even though he was blindfolded and couldn't see Ashton at all.

"You aren't getting how this is going to work, are you?” Ashton said, voice cold, and Michael shivered, thrilled. “I'm in charge. Why do you think I blindfolded you?"

"So I can't see what you're doing," Michael said, and bless him, he was really trying to make it seem like he wasn't being an insolent little asshole intentionally, even though he totally was.

Ashton snickered, derisively. "Well, that's the obvious answer. So...you're right on the basest level.” Michael licked his lip. “It's so I have the power, Michael. But you aren't really grasping that."

A hint of a smirk played on the corner of Michael's lips; he knew Ashton wouldn't appreciate it in this specific scenario, but disobeying Ashton meant he was getting the attention he wanted, so he didn't even bother attempting to keep his expression neutral.

"No, I guess I'm not,” Michael said, and he could practically feel Ashton's energy bristling with annoyance.

Before Michael could register it, the blindfold was yanked off of his face. Ashton was untying it. Michael sat up, hands on either side of him, pushing himself up off the bed. He watched Ashton intently, waiting for his next move. Part of him was swelling up inside, proud that his misbehavior had worked.

Ashton was folding the bandana differently now, so it would be longer than when it was just tied around Michael's head. "Stand up."

"Why?" Michael asked, but he blanched at the look Ashton gave him. Maybe he'd taken it too far—Ashton didn't usually sound so mad. This was new territory, and Michael was both apprehensive and really fucking excited to see where it would lead. He scooched off the bed.

"Hands behind your back," Ashton said. “Turn around.” Michael listened to the orders he was giving. He felt Ashton draping the bandana over his wrists, passing it between them, the fabric a little rough against his skin. Ashton pulled it taut and then looped a finger between Michael's forearms, tugging. "Can you move?"

Michael tested it. "No."

"Could you get out if you needed to?"

Another pull—he felt the bandana giving way, and didn't move further, because— "Yes."

"On the bed, on your back. Lie down."

Michael turned to face Ashton before sitting down on the bed. He moved back using only his legs to propel him; it was harder than he thought it would be, having his hands tied. They'd never done this before, and he was a little unsure how he felt about it so far. Ashton watched Michael as he moved himself back into the middle of the bed.

“Are we still ok?” Ashton asked, studying Michael's face. Michael met his eyes, considering it. He tried to pull his wrists free again and, when he realized that he totally could get his hands out if he wanted to, felt immeasurably better. He nodded.

“Yeah, I think I like it. We'll see.” He made to lean back, but Ashton spoke again before he could.

“Wait.”

Michael stopped moving, looking up at Ashton where he was still standing to the side of the bed. Ashton climbed onto the bed beside him and put one of his hands on Michael's jaw, holding his head still as he kissed him, softly—Michael immediately understood: Ashton wasn't really pissed, he was acting the part, just like Michael wanted him to. Michael kissed him back until Ashton pulled away, the smile slipping off his face to be replaced by a stern look.

“Well?” Ashton said, voice cold again, slightly detached. “On your back.”

Michael threw himself backward, landing with a _whump_ on the pillows—he was glad to see that Ashton almost laughed, even though overall he did manage to keep his composure. He watched as Ashton undid his jeans, but he made no move to push them down. It was a classic move—ready to get his dick out if he had to, but still keep some semblance of power over Michael by being mostly dressed. Michael bit his lip, catching a glimpse of Ashton's underwear in the triangle that was revealed after he unzipped his pants. He took his time in moving onto the bed; Michael's eyes stayed fixed on Ashton's face even as Ashton allowed his gaze to wander over Michael's body, at where his back was arched up a little, his hands balled into fists beneath him, tied together and crossed at the wrist. Ashton stood with the fronts of his knees pressed against the side of the bed, leaning a bit over Michael, who squirmed a little, desperate to be touched.

“Will you just—” he began, but Ashton tutted a few times, cutting his sentence off.

“I already tied your hands,” Ashton said, gesturing to where Michael's front was bowed up. “Do I need to gag you too?”

Michael snapped his mouth shut and shook his head no. Ashton watched him, smirking, before deciding Michael would probably behave now. “Good boy,” he muttered; he wasn't used to giving praise like that, even though Michael liked it. He could tell—Michael was trying to suppress a smile, and Ashton looked away so he could revel in the comment, instead focusing his attention on Michael's thighs. He climbed onto the bed and pushed them apart, settling in between them, letting his hands rest on the pale skin, his own looking tan in comparison. He massaged Michael's thighs with his thumbs just a little, and Michael pushed himself further down the bed, closer to Ashton, spreading his legs even further.

“You want me to touch you?” Ashton said, and Michael nodded. “You can answer. Yes or no.”

“Yes,” Michael said, then closed his mouth again. He supposed those were the only two words Ashton would accept for the time being.

“You want me to touch you, here?” Ashton asked, squeezing Michael's legs, pushing them further open; if he wasn't still wearing underwear, he'd have been completely open and exposed for Ashton.

Michael swallowed thickly and nodded again. “Yes.”

“And here?” Ashton asked again, moving one of his hands to cup Michael's balls through the fabric stretched over him.

“Yes,” Michael answered, his desperation audible now, despite only uttering the same syllable over and over.

This time, Ashton didn't ask—he only lifted his hand and traced the side of his index finger over the ridge of Michael's dick, giving him some friction.

“Yes, yes, please,” Michael said, and Ashton smirked down at him.

“Is that it? Just there?” He kept his finger moving, back and forth, giving Michael the contact and attention he wanted and yet, still, not nearly enough.

“No,” Michael admitted; he rolled his hips a little.

“I didn't think so,” Ashton said. He paused and met Michael's eyes—they widened for a fraction of a second, Michael trying to convey how badly he wanted Ashton to continue. So he did. “Slut.”

Michael licked his lip and rolled his hips again. Ashton moved his hand away and placed it back opposite the other one, resting on his thigh before moving them down, hands splaying out on the sides of Michael's legs and lifting them a little, bending Michael at the waist just slightly.

“You probably want me to fold you in half and fuck you into this mattress,” Ashton said, feeling a little emboldened by just how into it Michael looked, “right, slut?”

Michael nodded, so quickly his blue hair was flopping back and forth on his forehead, and Ashton reminded him to speak.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, I do,” Michael said, answering Ashton's previous question.

“Not yet,” Ashton said; it probably would end with that, but Michael never liked this—whatever it was—to end so quickly. So Ashton just leaned over him, hands on either side of Michael's shoulders.

“I need to show you how good I am first, right?” Michael asked, taking the lead for a moment. Ashton just nodded, lowering his face and pressing kisses on Michael's shoulders and collarbones, his lips closing around one and sucking, hard. Unintentionally, he lowered his hips against Michael's, letting them grind together for a moment, until Michael couldn't keep quiet and let a small sigh escape his lips. Ashton pulled away, his lips dragging over Michael's chest as he straightened up, kneeling above him.

“Is that being good?” Ashton asked, trying for disappointed, but not sure if he really managed it well. “Didn't I tell you we weren't doing that yet?”

Michael looked sincerely apologetic, but he didn't answer the question. “You said you wouldn't fuck me yet.”

Ashton's look hardened. Michael was really being a little shit tonight—he must have wanted this badly to keep giving Ashton attitude.

“You want me to fuck you?” Ashton asked—rhetorical, Michael knew, but he tried to answer anyway.

“Ye—” he managed, before Ashton clamped a hand down over his mouth, silencing him. Part of him expected to feel Michael's tongue against his palm, just to mess with him, to try and make him lose his stride, but Michael remained docile.

“No talking. You tell me to stop if you need me to, but other than that...shut up.”

Michael blinked to show he understood, and Ashton pushed himself back upright, moving off of the bed. Michael adjusted himself a little; his arms were kind of uncomfortable, but if he rolled slightly to the side it was better.

Ashton had returned to his suitcase and was rifling through the contents again. He found what he was looking for—a little bottle of lube—and returned to the bed. He curled his fingers beneath the waistband of Michael's underwear, ordered “Lift your hips,” and removed them in one motion. He climbed back onto the bed, pushing Michael's legs open again—and none too gently. Michael suppressed a grin.

“Now...” Ashton said, snapping the bottle open with his thumb. “You want me to fuck you?”

Michael kept his mouth shut—he had to bite his lip not to beg—but lifted his hips a little to show he did, he _really fucking did_.

Ashton didn't even bother glancing down at Michael, instead looking at what he was doing with the bottle. He settled himself down, sitting on his knees, and squeezed some lube onto his right hand—spreading it over the pads of his fingers with his thumb before finally lowering his gaze to Michael beneath him. His cock was hard and resting against the front of his hip, but Ashton didn't even bother with it. He put his left hand on Michael's thigh, holding him steady as he traced his forefinger against Michael's hole. He could feel Michael clenching against his finger before there was even anything inside him.

“Desperate,” Ashton said, meeting Michael's eyes for a moment, just long enough to see him nodding. “Pathetic,” he mumbled. Michael stopped moving for a moment before he tried again, this time rolling his hips to try and get Ashton to finger him. This time, when he moved his hips into Ashton's finger, he allowed the tip to enter Michael, slipping inside of him. Michael whined softly, and Ashton's eyes flicked to his face. Michael met his gaze, but he didn't stop making noise, especially since Ashton had begun moving his finger in and out of him, curling it in search of his prostate, and Michael didn't think he could stop whining if he tried.

“You live for this, don't you? Me touching you,” Ashton said, Michael's clear enjoyment of being treated as such really pushing him further, more into the role Michael always wanted him to occupy. “That's all you care about,” Ashton continued, curling his finger again, grinning, eyes narrowed just a touch, when Michael's hips arched up off the bed. Ashton pressed upward with his finger again, rubbing Michael's prostate, causing him to whine, louder. “That's all you want.” Michael nodded along with what Ashton was saying, not really even hearing him. “Slut,” Ashton concluded. Michael's eyes closed of their own accord, lips parted in a soft moan as Ashton pulled his finger partly out of Michael.

Honestly, Ashton doubted what he was saying was true, that his touch was the only thing that gave Michael validation—but if the way Michael was still whimpering, wordlessly pleading for more, was any indication, then what Ashton was saying was spot on. He...kind of liked how that made him feel, actually. He settled himself lower on his knees, leaning down over Michael and sucking a kiss against the wet head of Michael's cock. “You're so good for me,” Ashton whispered, his breath warm against Michael's cock, leaking precome onto his hip. “Love it.”

“Ash,” Michael sighed, even though he wasn't supposed to be speaking. Ashton let it go—it was just his name, and it was probably more of an unconscious thing than something he'd said on purpose. Even so, he pulled back from Michael's cock, still fucking him slowly with his finger.

“You think you're being good enough for me to give you more?” Ashton asked, pulling his finger nearly fully out of Michael. “Because I don't know...”

Michael bit his lip and nodded, keeping his eyes locked on Ashton's for the time being. He spread his legs as far as he could without having to hold them in place, his hands trapped behind his back as they were. Ashton used his free hand to caress Michael's thigh, fingers dipping down low enough that they moved over his ass, too.

“You want it so fucking bad,” Ashton began, and Michael nodded again, quickly, his lip pinched between his teeth, keeping himself quiet, “and you're doing everything I tell you to.” Michael stilled his hips, waiting for whatever else Ashton was going to give him. His cock twitched a little as Ashton nudged his finger upward, brushing over his prostate. “Good boys should get rewarded, yeah?”

Michael nodded in answer to the question even though he knew Ashton didn't mean for him to answer it. He whimpered when Ashton slid a second finger into his asshole, stretching him a bit further, the pressure on his prostate even more intense with two fingers against it. Michael sighed softly and closed his eyes for a moment before refocusing them on Ashton's face. He lowered them to look down his body at where Ashton's hand was between his legs, fucking him with two fingers, gently scissoring them apart to loosen him even further.

“I think you've earned this,” Ashton said, but didn't elaborate any further on what he meant—he just kept his fingers gently moving over Michael's prostate, watching as precome collected at the tip of his cock, dripping slowly onto his front. Ashton wanted to taste him, wanted to swallow his cock while he fingered him—but he resisted. He forced himself to stay where he was, unmoving between Michael's thighs. He moved his fingertips in circles inside of Michael, drawing soft, pleading moans from him, but he didn't quicken his pace or change what he was doing.

“Good?” Ashton asked, his tone a touch warmer than everything else he'd said; he was checking in with Michael, making sure he was ok. It was impossible for him to miss how his shoulders were scrunched up, how his back was arching, how his thighs were trembling just a little from either holding his position, or holding himself back from fucking himself on Ashton's fingers. “Answer,” he prompted when no speech was forthcoming from Michael.

“Yes, good,” Michael managed to get out, mumbling the words and nodding furiously as he dug his heels into the bed to drag himself down, closer to Ashton. Ashton let him, but pressed his hand flat against Michael's thigh, holding him in place. He didn't want Michael moving too much—he wanted to coax his orgasm out slowly, not rush it like Michael always wanted. Ashton wanted to tease him, get him there gradually, show him how good it was to be obedient, how he would always get his if he let Ashton take care of him.

“Ashton,” Michael whined, and when Ashton looked up at his face, this time he knew it was deliberate. His elbows were bent like he was trying to get out of the bandana, and if that was really what he wanted, Ashton wouldn't stop him, but he would at least try to convince him to stay still a bit longer.

“Mikey,” Ashton said, his voice low, so Michael would have to really listen to hear him. Michael stopped moving and looked at Ashton, his lips slightly parted, breath coming a bit ragged, but he stayed motionless, waiting for Ashton to speak. “You know I'm going to make you come, right?”

Michael nodded after a moment's hesitation, and Ashton's expression softened.

“Talk to me.”

“I want to come now,” Michael said immediately, and Ashton smirked, allowing himself a small chuckle.

“You want,” Ashton repeated, and Michael nodded, not daring to speak after the laughter. “I told you already that we're doing what I want.”

Michael nodded.

“Do you want to stop?” Ashton asked, and it was in his regular voice. He trusted Michael to speak up if they were doing something he didn't like, but it didn't hurt to ask, either. He stopped moving his fingers, softly and slowly rubbed Michael's thigh so he would know it was ok to answer.

“Just—” Michael began, then swallowed and lifted his head a bit, so he could see Ashton better. Ashton raised himself up so Michael could make unbroken eye contact with him. “What are you going to do?” he asked, holding Ashton's gaze.

“I'm going to get you off like this,” Ashton said, curling his fingers, rubbing the pads over Michael's prostate. Michael's hips lifted off the bed of their own accord, his cock dribbling even more precome over his hip. “Ok?”

Michael bit his lip, assessing the situation, studying Ashton's face, but finding that, ultimately, he did trust the older boy, and he did like what he was doing. “Ok.”

Ashton gave Michael a smile, then jerked his chin forward at him. “Lie back. I'll take care of you, don't worry.” He lifted his hand from the underside of Michael's thigh to rest on the front of his hip, fingertips of that hand brushing over the short, curly hairs at the base of Michael's cock, trailing up to his bellybutton.

Michael liked this better, liked having one of Ashton's hands somewhere he could see it, so he lowered his head back down against the pillows behind him and rolled his hips a little, just to signal to Ashton that he could begin again. A moan was pulled from his lips as Ashton pressed his fingers up against Michael's prostate, a bit harder than before, and didn't relent, holding the pressure on them as he massaged in circles again. Michael felt a tightness in his abdomen, but with no friction on his dick, he had no relief from it.

Moving his free hand, his left hand, from Michael's stomach to rest on the top of his hip was a split-second decision. He could see the precome leaking from the tip of Michael's cock was turning just a touch more opaque, a milky white compared to being translucent as before. Ashton didn't know if Michael noticed—his eyes were half-lidded, nearly closed, and Ash couldn't really tell where he was looking. Either way, he knew what he was doing was working. Michael groaned a bit as Ashton's thumb began working back and forth over his perineum, stroking him there at the same pace he was curling his fingers up against his prostate inside of him.

“Fuck,” Michael whimpered, trying to spread his legs, and then lift his hips, and then lower them further onto Ashton's fingers—it was like his body simply didn't know what to do with itself. Ashton moved his left hand so he could still tease Michael with his thumb, but now he was resting his palm differently, the pads of his first three fingers grazing over the base of Michael's cock. It wouldn't do much in terms of friction, but now he could see that Michael's dick was leaking come, a thick puddle of it already on his stomach. Ashton lifted his hand, gently palming the underside of Michael's cock, the head soaking wet from resting in his semen.

“Look how good,” Ashton murmured to Michael, who was able to lift his head, despite looking as though the sheer effort of that was tiring him out. His hole was spasming around Ashton's fingers, but he didn't stop rubbing against his prostate until the flow of come finally slowed. He kept his fingers inside Michael, unmoving, but kept his left hand moving over the bottom of his dick.

Michael had put his head back down, eyes closed, resting it on the pillows. Ashton watched him take a few breaths before moving his left hand to Michael's still-trembling thigh, and softly squeezing his leg as he carefully pulled his fingers out. Michael tightened around him as he did, like he was trying to keep Ashton inside of him, but he removed them anyway. Michael sighed deeply when Ashton moved away from him, crawling up beside him on the bed, settling down to Michael's left. Michael looked utterly spent, his eyelids fluttering, lips parted. Ashton rested on his right side, ignoring how tight his jeans felt around his hips. He wiped his right hand off on the sheets, but still only used his clean hand to touch Michael. He brushed his blue hair back off of his forehead, then stroked his cheek with the back of two fingers.

“You were so good for me, Michael.” Ashton kissed his temple. “Such a good boy. How you feeling?” he asked, and Michael just nodded, his eyes still closed, though he closed his mouth and swallowed. Ashton kissed his neck and moved his hand down over Michael's chest. He could feel his heart still pounding. “Tell me how you feel.”

“I feel good,” Michael said after collecting himself. He nodded a little bit at Ashton. “Tired.”

“That's ok,” Ashton said, rolling away from Michael. He climbed off the bed and headed toward the bathroom. “I'll be right back.”

He quickly washed his hands, more for Michael's sake than his own, and grabbed a clean towel before returning to Michael's side. He looked as though he hadn't moved at all other than to close his legs. The come that had collected on his stomach had begun to spill over his side and onto the bedsheets. Ashton used the towel to wipe it up, making sure Michael was clean before using a different corner of the towel to wipe any lube from between his legs. Michael hummed softly as Ashton cleaned him, then dropped the towel to the floor.

“Can you move onto your side?” Ashton asked, placing one hand on Michael's shoulder to help him move. Once Michael's hands were visible, Ashton knelt down beside the bed and carefully untied the bandana. It was incredibly loose—Michael probably could have freed his hands at any time, but he had chosen not to. Ashton smiled—Michael really was good, better than Ashton had given him credit for. He removed the bandana from around his wrists, wrapping it around his hand and tossing it over toward his suitcase—it landed near his boots, which, whatever—and then turned back to where Michael was waiting for him, now flat on his back again.

“Still ok?” Ashton asked, smoothing his hand back over Michael's hair. Michael nodded, grinning a bit.

“That was fucking awesome,” Michael said, voice quiet, like he'd forgotten how to speak after being restricted to one-word answers for so long. Ashton grinned back at him, leaning down to kiss him on the lips, his hand tangling in Michael's short hair. He didn't notice Michael trying to pull down his jeans until the backs of Michael's fingers brushed over his hard dick, drawing his attention.

“Hey, no,” Ashton said, grabbing Michael by the wrists and gently moving his hands away.

“What do you mean, 'no?'” Michael said, and Ashton could have heard the annoyance in his voice even if he wasn't looking at Michael—who was looking at Ash like he was an idiot.

“I mean, I'll just jerk off in the bathroom. You should rest,” he said, and Michael's expression turned from exasperated to straight-up offended.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, shifting a little—trying to prove he was totally fine. “Why would you jerk off when my ass is right here?” He pointed and grinned, like he was just so fucking clever.

“I just—you're too sensitive for me to do that right now,” Ashton protested. Michael rolled his eyes, but Ashton continued. “You are! I don't want to hurt you.”

“Ok, fine,” Michael said. “How about I suck you off, and then after that, when my ass has had a substantial naptime, _then_ you fuck me.”

Ashton figured that sounded just about fair enough—and he could probably convince Michael that just a blowjob was enough. “All right.”

Michael pushed himself upright, so he was sitting on the bed in front of Ashton. He looked up at him, licking his lips, which were redder than normal from how much he'd been biting them.

“You sit,” Michael said, sliding off the bed to his knees, still looking up at Ashton. Ashton pushed his jeans down and stepped out of them before also lowering his underwear—but before he got them down over his hips, Michael's hands moved to cover Ashton's, pushing them out of the way. Ashton slipped his hands out from beneath Michael's, and allowed him to tug the waistband down. His cock sprang up, released from the fabric, and the two of them laughed a little.

“Almost took my eye out,” Michael quipped, and Ashton reached out, placing his hand on Michael's forehead and pushing his face back playfully, muttering “Shut up.”

Michael just giggled, ducking away from Ashton's palm, then put his hands back on Ashton's hips as he stepped out of his underwear; Michael guided him down onto the bed, pushing his legs open right away and crawling closer, settling down between his thighs. His palms pressed into Ashton's legs as he leaned in, letting his lips trail over Ashton's stomach first, as much of it as it could reach, anyway. He felt Ashton shy away, trying not to laugh—Michael's lips and nose were tickling him, not to mention the soft strands of hair brushing over his skin.

“Stop,” Ashton said, but the smile on his face was audible in his words. He reached out with one hand, threading his fingers through Michael's hair, and shifting himself back just a little. With barely a glance up at Ashton, Michael parted his lips and took the head of his cock between them, but he didn't move much further than that, choosing instead to tease Ashton with his tongue. He trailed the tip of his tongue over the slit in the head of Ashton's cock, waiting for a whimper or some kind of noise from above him to indicate that Ashton wanted more.

And he didn't have to wait long for it. Ashton expected something more than what Michael was giving him, and when all he could feel was Michael's tongue barely tracing over the head of his dick, he sighed softly, curling his fingers into a fist around a handful of Michael's hair. He wouldn't force his cock into his mouth, but he could express just how badly he wanted more. Michael took the cue and lowered his mouth around Ashton fully, lips closing around the shaft and sliding down his length. Michael swallowed around him, his tongue pressing up against the underside of his cock. Ashton leaned his head back and sighed again, but this time it was breathy and grateful.

Michael's chest swelled a bit with pride, and he wanted to make Ashton feel even better, wanted to be as good as possible for him: He squeezed Ashton's legs just a little, taking a deep breath through his nose and shutting his eyes tight before he moved even further onto Ashton's cock, feeling the head slip into his throat. Ashton gasped, sounding like his breath was punched out of his lungs; he could feel Michael's throat fluttering around the head of his cock and Michael's tongue flat against him, the muscle pressing upward. Even though he couldn't really focus on anything other than how much of his cock was inside Michael's mouth, he could still tell that he probably shouldn't let Michael stay that way much longer.

“Michael, Michael,” Ashton whispered, pulling the other boy's head back by his hair. Relief flooded his limbs when his cock slipped out of Michael's throat, the head just resting on his tongue now. Michael didn't stop, though—he closed his lips around Ashton's dick again and resumed suckling at the head, even though his chest was heaving just slightly from deepthroating him. Ashton felt acutely aware of Michael's hands on his legs, and before he realized what was happening, Michael's fingers were digging into his thighs again, and his cock was moving back into Michael's throat.

He couldn't see anything other than the top of Michael's head, his blue hair mussed and sticking up at all angles, but he could certainly _feel_ Michael. He felt like their very beings were mingling together, with Michael's fingernails cutting small half-moons into Ashton's legs and his throat swallowing his cock down.

“ _Michael_ ,” Ashton said, and this time it was something of a warning: Michael had had enough of a night already, he didn't have to keep doing this.

Michael pulled off on his own, letting Ashton's cock fall from between his lips as he looked up, lips red and cheeks flushed, his eyes watering just a little. Ashton carded his fingers through Michael's hair with both hands before moving one to cup his cheek. “You don't have to,” he said, voice soft.

Michael's hand found its way to Ashton's cock; he lowered his gaze for just a moment, not missing the small divots in Ashton's thigh where his fingers had pressed, and instead watching as he lazily began moving his hand over Ashton, slick with his saliva. Michael smoothed his thumb over the reddened head, smearing his spit and the small bead of precome there before speaking. “I want to.”

“You—” Ashton began, but Michael leaned in to lick the head, his tongue flat against it before looking up.

“One more time. I like it,” he said, and Ashton knew it was the truth, because he always wanted to, and Ashton rarely let him. He swiped his thumb over Michael's lower lip, taking in how eager his green eyes looked...and then nodded.

“Just once more,” Ashton agreed. Michael smirked, mischievous expression just barely visible to him before he opened his mouth again, lips stretching around Ashton's cock. He took him into his throat quicker than the other two times, opening up immediately for him, swallowing and laving his tongue against Ashton's length—his throat was so hot and tight and Ashton felt his abdomen tighten, his entire body constrict. Michael swallowed, eyes squeezed shut, then pulled off at the same moment that Ashton tangled his fingers in Michael's hair to push him back.

“ _Fuck_ , fuck, _shit_ ,” Ashton gasped, his body releasing just as his dick cleared Michael's mouth. He came in thick spurts against Michael's lips, the first one catching the corner of his mouth. Ashton watched as the breathtakingly beautiful boy on the floor in front of him opened his mouth for the rest of Ashton's come, catching what he could on his tongue and swallowing, leaning forward to lap at the head of his dick, sucking at the tip before pulling away and wiping his mouth, first on his hand, and then on the discarded towel beside him on the floor.

When Michael looked back up, Ashton was flat on his back on the bed, breathing slow and deep, one arm flung over his eyes. Michael snickered and pushed himself up to his feet, crawling onto the bed beside him.

“You ok?” Michael asked, settling down beside Ashton and smacking at his arm, trying to get him to move it away so Michael could see his face.

“Me?” Ashton said weakly—he was recovering from the most intense orgasm he'd had in a while. He lowered his arm, mostly because he wanted Michael to stop batting at it like an oversized, overzealous kitten. “I'm fine. How are you?” It sounded like an innocent question, but he was really asking because Michael had swallowed his cock three times.

“I'm good,” Michael said, and it was a statement, but Ashton knew by his adjective choice that he wanted Ashton to confirm it for him.

Ashton sat up, turning to Michael as he did and pulled him in for a kiss, tasting himself on Michael's lips and tongue before pulling away. “You are good,” he said, voice low and serious. Michael smiled—he thrived on praise—and kissed Ashton again. “You're so good, such a good boy,” Ashton whispered against Michael's lips, and Michael closed his eyes, leaning into Ashton as he stroked his hair softly. “My good boy,” he concluded, and Michael nodded against Ashton's neck, nose brushing over his collarbone as Ashton lowered his hand to gently rub Michael's arm.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, before Michael whispered, his breath cool against Ashton's heated skin. “Ash,” Michael said, and Ashton hummed in response. Michael continued. “Can you—Would you fuck me now?”

“Michael,” Ashton began, but Michael cut him off.

“Please,” he said, ready to beg if he had to.

“Wasn't before enough?” Ashton sounded a little exasperated—but he wasn't mad, he just truly didn't want to wear Michael out too much, push him too far, and then end up hurting him. He didn't want to do that, especially since Michael trusted Ashton to take care of him, not do the exact goddamn opposite.

“It was good, but,” Michael said, swallowing thickly and licking his lower lip, “but I really need to _come_. I need to fucking come. That, before—that was great, but it wasn't the same. God, Ash, please—fuck me.”

Ashton didn't think he could resist that even if he wanted to. He barely gave a nod before catching Michael's lips with his own, kissing him and pushing him backward, ending up on top of him after an awkward flailing of limbs. Their bare cocks rubbed together, and it took next to no time at all before Ashton was chubbing back up against Michael's half-hard dick. Ashton sucked Michael's lower lip before pulling away.

“How do you want it?” he asked, voice rough with arousal—sometimes, like now, he didn't think he could ever get enough of Michael.

“Like this.” Michael breathed his answer, arms locking around Ashton, holding their fronts together.

“Let me just—” Ashton said, slipping out of his hold to find the bottle of lube. “Do you need me to stretch you more?” he asked as he snapped the top open.

“No,” Michael answered. He knew he should let Ashton stretch him up to three fingers, but after what Ash had done to him, after milking his orgasm out slowly, his entire lower half felt loose and fluid, his legs moving languidly as he spread them apart.

Ashton watched him out of the corner of his eye as he squeezed some lube from the bottle onto his palm, then closed his hand around his cock. Ashton was back between Michael's legs after a quick couple pumps of his length, just to be sure he was slick enough. He slipped two fingers inside of Michael again, using the excess lube from his fingers on his hole. Michael whimpered quietly when Ashton's fingers entered him, but he only shook his head when Ashton looked questioningly up at him.

“Michael, we don't have to,” Ashton said, his voice taking on a worrying note.

“ _Please_ ,” Michael said. “Just go slow. It won't even take me that long. You either.” Still, Ashton didn't look convinced. “I want this. I _need_ you. Need you inside me when I come, Ash, please.”

Ashton smoothed his hands over Michael's thighs. Michael only managed another “Ash, please” before he was lining the head of his cock up with his hole. Michael reached up to let his hands rest on Ashton's arms, gripping his wrists as Ashton moved into him. He whimpered as Ashton's cock slid against his prostate, still sensitive from earlier, but once Ashton was fully inside him, not moving, the pressure on it and the stretch of his asshole felt good. He sighed, content. “Slow,” he reminded Ashton, who nodded and pulled out.

It was almost agony for Ashton. Michael was squeezing down on him and it was taking nearly all of his self-control not to pound into him, just like he said he was going to do when they first got onto the bed. Ashton kept his movements slow and calculated, mostly because he knew Michael was right—it wouldn't take him long to come, not with how Michael was clenching down on him.

Michael had released one of Ashton's wrists, closing his fist instead around his own cock, jerking himself off hard and fast, a strong counter to how Ashton was moving in and out of him. Michael's hips jerked upward, a loud moan fell from his lips, and Ashton groaned, too. He knew was going to come again. _Fuck_.

“Mikey,” Ashton said, hoping that he'd understand just by how wound-up he sounded.

“I'm close too,” came Michael's response, his voice rough, a touch more gravelly than usual. He bit his lip and pressed his thumb into the slit in his cock, rubbing against it and drawing a short gasp from himself.

Ashton unintentionally snapped his hips forward into Michael—who loosed a louder gasp that degenerated into a low, rumbling groan as he came for real this time, come shooting onto his stomach and painting him with stripes all across his front. Michael curled his legs up and around Ashton, holding him close. He felt his ass tighten impossibly around Ashton, dragging him right over the edge too. Michael's heels dug into his lower back as Ashton came deep inside of him, his hips grinding into Michael's asscheeks until both of their bodies relaxed.

When Ashton tried to move back and slowly, carefully, slip out of Michael, he found he couldn't—Michael was still holding him tight in place. Ashton huffed a laugh—Michael looked like he was sleeping, and Ashton might have thought he had passed out if not for the fact that he smirked when Ashton laughed.

“Let me off you,” he said, but Michael shook his head.

“Feels good,” Michael mumbled.

“I need to clean us up,” Ashton argued, and Michael sighed, spreading his legs so Ashton could pull out of him and move off the bed to turn off the lights and then grab the towel—by his estimation, at least half of it still had to be clean. He wiped Michael down first, taking care to make his movements soft, then cleaned his front off, tossing the towel back onto the floor afterward.

Michael didn't let Ashton go anywhere else—he leaned up, grabbed his arm, and pulled Ash down beside him, immediately turning to him and curling up against his front. Ashton wrapped his arms around Michael, kissing his forehead.

“Good boy,” Michael said, slipping one of his legs between Ashton's.

Michael could tell Ashton was smiling when he answered. “You too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to [Ally](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iambic_pulse) for being the best beta in the galaxy.
> 
> Tumblr: [maybeillfindyouhere](http://maybeillfindyouhere.tumblr.com/) • Come say hi!
> 
> _Title from "Heavy In Your Arms" by Florence + The Machine._


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